


Remembrance

by TheForgottenX



Category: The Alienist (TV), The Alienist - Caleb Carr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-08-09 14:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16452026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheForgottenX/pseuds/TheForgottenX
Summary: A chance encounter on the way to the opera leaves John shaken and Lazlo concerned.





	1. Chapter 1

John nervously took a sip of his wine as he felt Lazlo now look at him with all the analytical prowess he had previously turned to catching Japheth Drury. In truth he could not account for his own discomfiture, but upon encountering Biff Ellison he’d been seized by such need for a drink as he hadn’t encountered since his brother’s death. He was once again thankful that upon entering the opera house patrons were greeted by waiters holding drinks. 

“John,” Lazlo began, leaning in from his seat, “are you quite sure you are all right?”

“Oh yes” he said, trying to grin, “I’m just preparing myself for a soporific evening. Last time I fell asleep at an odd angle and woke up quite sore.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to still be embarrassed by what transpired with Mr. Ellison” Lazlo stated, ignoring his previous response. “Being robbed of your billfold and trousers is hardly the most significant social misstep your drinking has led you too.”

John experienced a hot flush of anger and shame at the continued insinuation that he’d simply had too much to drink at Paresis Hall. His frustration over being unable to defend himself, as he remembered little of what had transpired, nearly made him snap at the needling alienist. Instead, he picked up the opera glasses and began scanning the surrounding boxes in an effort to avoid eye contact. Seeing an opportunity to change the subject, “Say, it appears Mr. Morgan has acquired a new niece.” 

Lazlo sniffed at his observation. “I’ve further upset you by mentioning what happened at Paresis Hall. Why is that?”

“Perhaps you might first tell me exactly the nature of your quarrel with Sarah? I believe I asked you months ago and never received an adequate response.” As soon as the words left his mouth John regretted them. He had no interest in dredging up an old feud and did not relish the idea of attempting to play peacemaker once again. 

After a moment of unexpected silence, he finally turned to Lazlo, intent on apologizing. He was astonished to find Lazlo blushing slightly and now making his own efforts to avoid eye contact.

“Ms. Howard never told you what happened or how we made amends?”

“No.” John wanted to leave it at that, but ultimately years of concern for his friend overrode his good sense and he asked, “Are you alright? Do you wish to speak of what transpired?”

“Your unfailingly good nature continues to surprise me John. Especially as I’m beginning to think I did a greater disservice to you, in not seeing to you after your night as Paresis Hall, than I ever did to Sarah.”

Before John could begin to piece together a response to such a statement, the lights in the theater began to dim, signaling the start of the show. John thought he could begin to relax and so was startled by the press of Lazlo’s good hand against his arm. Surprised into looking directly at Lazlo, he was further discomfited by the look of deep concern on his face. Rather than attempt to speak, John patted the hand resting on his arm with what he hoped was a seemingly relaxed smile and turned to concentrate on the opening act. 

 

 

The opera had been every bit as boring and incomprehensible as John had expected it to be. He, however, had spent the show uneasy rather than bored. Lazlo had intermittently returned to observing John throughout the show, resulting in John studiously keeping his eyes on the stage. 

John had been quite ready leave Lazlo’s company at the end of the opera and find a place to drink away his discomfort, but Lazlo requested that he join him at his home for a drink. Before John could decline, he mentioned how quiet the house seemed without Mary’s company. Being unable to leave his friend to a night of loneliness, John had accepted his invitation even as he felt himself being manipulated. 

Now, sitting in Lazlo’s calash, sharing a blanket to fight off the chill in the air, John wasn’t quite sure how to move forward. Lazlo, however, seemed ready to move on from their earlier discussion.

“I am glad you agreed to join me tonight. I have acquired a bottle of wine specifically suggested by Charles Delmonico which I have been most anxious to sample.”

“In which case I am most anxious as well. I may be the more prodigious imbiber between us but your taste in wine far exceeds my own.”

“Perhaps if you approve you could order a bottle to share with Ms. Howard,” Lazlo responded with a sly look. “Although I understand her tastes run to whiskey.”

John laughed and gave Lazlo a knowing look. “If that was a subtle attempt to ask about my use of your ring I’m sorry to let you know I don’t believe it will ever grace Sarah’s hand.”

“I am sorry to hear that John. Did she give you a reason?”

“She, ahh, indicated that much like her preference for whiskey her predilections in romance are of an unusual sort. And I could never meet them.”

Lazlo simply gave a small smile and a nod.

“Did you know? Is that why you first warned me away?”

“I came to suspect over time but I was not certain. And no, I am ashamed to say, I warned you away only because I was angry with you.”

John gave another chuckle. “Well I am relieved to have the question settled at least. Although it gave my poor grandmother a great deal of sorrow.”

Lazlo nodded again as the calash came to a halt. 

With a word of thanks to Stevie and a request that a fire be lit in the study, Lazlo and John entered Lazlo’s home. Lazlo went in search of the wine and, knowing that his friend would be insulted by an offer of assistance, John made his way to the study and settled on a couch. The normal banter in the calash had somewhat soothed John’s nerves and he hoped a glass or two of wine would dispense with the rest of the unusual discomfort which had haunted his evening.

Before long, Stevie had the fire started and Lazlo had handed John a glass of wine and settled into a chair across from him. From there the conversation moved from Stevie’s unfortunate smoking habits (Lazlo had admonished John for slipping the boy a cigarette after he’d been dismissed for the night), to John’s work at the paper, to Joseph’s progress at the Institute. 

John was on his fourth glass of wine and had moved to lay across the sofa when Lazlo mentioned meeting with the Isaacson brothers. There was some discussion of the possibility of publishing an article describing the forensic methods used to determine that one man was responsible for the murder of all of the boys.

“That seems like a capital idea provided that Roosevelt has no objections,” John mussed.

“Yes we will have to seek his approval. We will also need to gather as much background information as possible to ensure the article does not fall prey to the forces that wish to discredit such new techniques. As such, I have wondered whether you recovered any additional memories from your time at Paresis Hall?”

John felt his heart rate increase at Lazlo’s question and fought to keep his body relaxed, sure that any visible signs of his distress would further arouse Lazlo’s curiosity. “I’m sorry to disappoint you and the Isaacsons but I told you the very next morning I didn’t remember anything.”

“Yes but individuals who…have lost certain memories due to imbibing either alcohol or something stronger, frequently have portions of such memories suddenly return. You, in fact, later remembered Sally telling you that Gloria’s door was locked.”

“And when that memory returned I promptly relayed it to you!” John could hear peevishness creep into his voice and knew Lazlo would pick up on it. Once again he refused to make eye contact and instead stared into the fire. 

“You seem quite troubled by an incident you claim you cannot remember.”

John was beginning to think Lazlo invited him here for just this reason. The wine began to swish about in his belly and he struggled to sit upright. “I’m troubled by a number of things including the way those children are treated, the loss of my billfold, and your digging for information that I cannot give you!”

“There are methods we could use to try to allow you to access those memories.” 

“And why would I want to access such memories,” John asked while fumbling with his pack of cigarettes and struggling to light one. 

“Because you are afraid of Biff Ellison and you don’t know why.” John was forced to look at Lazlo to show his disgust at such a statement but had to look away again when Lazlo simply gazed back at him with sympathy. 

“Your hands are shaking and this time it’s not from withdrawal. John, that morning I asked you what you remembered but I didn’t press you on how you were.” Lazlo seemed strangely hesitant with his words, “you were…injured?”

John took a deep inhale from his cigarette remembering the sting of washing up that morning, the pain in sitting through a meeting with one of his grandmother’s eligible young ladies, and the resulting embarrassment of forgetting her name due to such distractions. He tried to banish such remembrances from his mind, chanting don’t remember don’t remember. He was so involved in attempting to fend off the memories he didn’t notice Lazlo crossing over to him. 

“John I” Lazlo began but got no further before John jerked his shoulder away from the hand Lazlo was reaching out to him with. Both gentlemen stared in surprise for a moment as John attempted to calm himself. “You haven’t been well since that night. Forgive me for not seeing it earlier and let me help. Tell me.”

“For God’s sake Lazlo I have no interest in returning my thoughts to children having their flesh peddled by monsters and their lives taken by fiends! Leave my mind in peace!” John felt the roiling in his stomach reach a dangerous point and thought about walking out, but found his legs were too weak to complete the move. He also realized he was having a hard time getting a decent amount of air into his lungs.

Lazlo plucked the still burning cigarette from John’s hand and, crushing it into the ash tray, leaned down to catch John’s eyes. “You are hyperventilating. You must try to control your breathing.” Once again Lazlo reached for John, but this time he grasped John’s hand and brought it to his own chest. “Follow me.”

John tried to heed Lazlo’s advice but found that his panic could not be controlled. He knew only that he had to get away and tried to jerk himself to his feet. He barely made it a step before his vision blurred over and he felt Lazlo half catch him half push him back onto the couch before he surrendered to the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lazlo opens up.
> 
> I'm trying to improve my writing, especially in regard to fiction so I love any and all constructive criticism.

John once again found himself sitting by the window in the parlor of his grandmother’s home, chain smoking, and ignoring Lazlo’s calls. A wish to go home continued to echo in his mind, even as he stared out the window at his grandmother’s skeletal rose bushes and tried to convince himself that this was the closest place he had to a home.

He had come to after that disastrous night, laid out on Lazlo’s couch. His coat, vest and tie had been removed and his shirt had been opened at the neck. The study was abandoned, and the fire had burned down to ashes. He had lain there, feeling sick and weak, as embarrassment grew within him over his falling into hysterics in front of his oldest friend. Unable to lie still another moment, marinating in his self-hatred, he’d gathered his belongings, skulked back to his own bed and not spoken to Lazlo since. 

John picked up his glass of whiskey and rolled it back and forth over his aching forehead, only looking up when his grandmother settled into the seat across from him. “I do hope you are not planning to return to old habits. A quarrel with Dr. Kreizler and a rejection from Ms. Howard should not undue all the work you have already put in.”

“I’m not quarreling with Kreizler, Gran. I simply have a headache and am attempting to use peaceful contemplation to get myself through another rough patch.”

“Hmm”, she began with an arch look, “perhaps your headache can be attributed to an overindulgence in smoking? I hardly know if I’m in a parlor or a gentleman’s club.”

John sighed, but with a tight smile for the only relative who tolerated him, he put out his most recent cigarette in the now overflowing ash tray. “Perhaps you are correct and I merely need some fresh air. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go for a walk.” 

As John stood he distantly heard the doorbell and the maid scurrying to answer it. Paying it no mind, he reached for the set of gloves he’d left lying on the mantel and began to pull them on. 

“Hello John, Mrs. Moore.” John jerked in surprise at hearing Lazlo’s voice, and turned to the doorway, stunned to see him standing there, hat in hand. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“Not at all Dr. Kreizler. I am afraid, however, that my grandson has just finished filling the house with tar, as you can no doubt smell, and thus was about to go for a walk. Perhaps you would like to join him?” 

John shot his grandmother a chagrined look, but before he could make an excuse, Lazlo was already replying. “A walk sounds lovely Mrs. Moore, provided John would not object to my company. John?”

Knowing that a negative response would be considered unspeakable rude, John smiled ruefully. Once again, he felt himself being outmaneuvered by Kriezler. 

“Of course Lazlo. Gran, I should be home for dinner.” Leaning down to kiss his grandmother’s cheek, he gestured Lazlo back to the door, and, donning his coat and hat, followed him out into the bright mid-afternoon sunlight which failed to warm the still frigid air of late March. 

Walking side-by-side with Lazlo, John felt his insides squirm with embarrassment. It was bad enough when Lazlo simply suspected that something untoward had happened at Paresis Hall, but after his bout of hysterics, he could hardly bear to be in his company. 

“John”

“Lazlo, allow me to be clear that I will not be continuing our discussions from the other night.” John turned left into a small park, winter bare, and the two walked in silence for several minutes. 

“I struck Sarah.” 

John had been so busy girding himself against any arguments Lazlo had about why they should discuss what had happened at Paresis Hall, his reaction to Lazlo’s actual words was pure astonishment. “My God!”

Lazlo continued to stare straight ahead at the grey path they were walking through the park, but also tucked his hands into his coat pockets and seemed to give a full body tremor before continuing. “She dug into a part of my past, the remembrance of which I find deeply…disturbing and she confronted me with it. In response, I entirely lost control of myself and I struck her.” 

John stopped and gripped his shoulder, and, in response, Lazlo stopped, and bravely turned to face him. “What…my God Lazlo, what could she have possibly said that would justify violence against a woman?! Our friend?!”

“Indeed there is nothing that could justify it. I had not told you any of this previously because I was heartily ashamed and I feared losing your good opinion of me. If you will permit me now, however, I would like to give you the whole truth. Shall we sit?” With that Lazlo gestured to a park bench sitting near a water-less fountain.

“Yes, of course.” John was furious on behalf of Sarah, but he could not help but feel proud that Lazlo was choosing to tell him the truth. He was also deeply concerned about what could have prompted his most cerebral friend to an act of such violence. Of course, he was there all those years ago, when Lazlo had quarreled with Roosevelt, but that had seemed an anomaly brought on by youth. John simply never could have imagined Lazlo striking a woman.

“My Father,” began Lazlo, once they were seated side by side, “was capable of both great kindness and great cruelty. When I was quite young he became… overzealous and twisted my arm and, I believe, quite accidentally, broke it.”

John watched as Lazlo swallowed thickly after such a confession and, daring greatly with the touchy alienist, shifted in his seat towards him so that their bodies touched from thigh to shoulder.

“It was not his first or his last act of violence. I have come to believe that he was jealous. You see, my father was the fourth of five boys. He used his intellect to distinguish himself, but he never had the benefit of his mother’s attention, divided as it was amongst his siblings, or a tutor, or music lessons, or any of the niceties used to create gentlemen like ourselves. He was irrevocably torn between wanting his only child to succeed, and being jealous of his, my, advantages. He frequently asserted that I was an imposter.”

John ached watching his friend try to validate the damage done to him. “Lazlo, my friend, you must know that no amount of deprivation or neglect could excuse your father harming you.”

“Excuse it? No. But explain it, act as a causal agent? I do believe that is possible.” 

John watched as Lazlo once again began rubbing the lame arm which had caused him so much grief. He could not help himself from further pressing his leg into Lazlo’s in response. He reflected on his own childhood, which had featured largely absent parents, but loving nursemaids and grandparents and a brother’s constant presence. He ached for the loneliness Lazlo must have felt. 

“After the incident with my arm, my mother withdrew from me. Now, as an adult, I can see that she meant to protect me from my father’s jealousy. As a child, however, I felt…lessened and ashamed of a disfigurement so severe it could cause the contraction of a mother’s love.”

John suddenly understood Lazlo’s anger at Sarah’s suggestion that a mother could have contributed to Drury’s violence. 

“Sarah found an article about a recital I gave as a small child. One which required the use of both hands. She confronted me with it and when I refused an answer, she, well she called me a coward. So now you see John, I am experienced in all types of shame.”

John could suddenly see how the events had played out. Sarah, furious over Lazlo’s obscene digging into her Father’s suicide, but unwilling to show it and have it deemed feminine weakness, decided to see how the alienist would like to have his past laid bare. Lazlo, unable to face the weakness he believed was illuminated by his past, growing defensive, lashing out. It was, in fact, not so very different from his quarrel with Roosevelt.

“Lazlo, nothing either of your parents did or said to you as a child was a reflection of who you were. You would assure any child in your Institute of the same. It was merely a reflection of who they were.”

“Yes. I frequently say that to the children at the Institute. I have said that to Cyrus and to Mary and to Stevie. I say it to myself on good days.” Lazlo removed his hat and began to wring it in his hands. 

You and Sarah were able to make amends?” John asked, trying to help his friend move beyond such painful memories. He, of course, was aware they had, but he was unsure how, especially with this new information.

Lazlo smiled bitterly for a moment. “Oh yes, but I fear I did not deserve it. After Mary, Ms. Howard came to me. She apologized for pushing. Like most members of her sex, she was trained and thus somewhat forced to make amends first, even though my trespass was by far the greater insult.”

“Sarah is by her nature both fierce and kind. Whatever the cause, I am glad you made amends. And that you came away from such a fray quite unscathed. I once insulted Sarah and ended up in the river.”

Lazlo graced him with a more open smile this time. “I believe she might have considered the same for me, but neglected to do so for fear it would be beneath the dignity of a member of the New York City Police Department.”

John laughed and looked out into the Park. Despite the wind biting through his layers it was quite nice to sit there with Lazlo amid the dead leaves, denuded trees, and empty fountain. He felt, momentarily, a part of his surroundings, rather than a displaced object within them.

“Forgive me John. But you have noted that neither I, nor Cyrus, nor Mary nor Stevie was to blame for what other people chose to do to us. Can you not extend such compassion to yourself?”

John’s relaxed feeling immediately disappeared. He stiffened, and opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t get his words in order before Lazlo continued.

“If you do not wish to speak to me of this, you would be fully justified. But please let me say that going to Paresis Hall and gathering information which helped us stop Japheth Drury from murdering additional children was extraordinarily brave. For a man of your stature, even being seen there was a risk.”

Lazlo paused for a moment while John simply stared through blurry eyes at the dead leaves swirling around the cold marble figures in the center of the fountain. He was surprised when Lazlo, usually so opposed to any contact, pressed back against his leg.

“John, even with my sometimes…harsh nature, you must know in what high esteem I hold you. I allowed my fear of the loss of your good opinion to prevent me from sharing these burdens with you.”

John didn’t know how to reassure his friend without showing his discomfort. In desperation, he reached out to brush his smallest finger against Lazlo’s hand.

“I felt weak before my father even as I was surpassing him. I felt weak before Roosevelt even as I handled myself admirably during our quarrel. I have felt weak before all those who could see my arm and guess its cause. And it poisoned me. It limited my time with Mary and my intimacy with you.”

At this John finally slowly reached out his small finger and intertwined it with Lazlo’s. “My dear friend”, John began but was again interrupted by Lazlo.

“I will never try to force your hand again. But I fear what carrying the burden of Paresis Hall alone will do to you. So I will simply say that my door and my life are always open to you if you wish to unburden yourself and would be willing to trust me with it. And if not, I still dearly hope to retain your friendship.”

With that last piece said, Lazlo turned his head rather suddenly and pressed a kiss to John’s shoulder. 

John sat unmoving among the dead and frozen things as Lazlo rose and walked alone towards the park exit. He noticed that the marble figures in the fountain were embracing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is gabbing, some fun historical details, and an intimate moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not actually sure how I feel about this chapter, but I've been staring at it for days and can't seem to make it better.

Shivering on Lazlo’s doorstep, John was relieved when Cyrus quickly responded to his knock and welcomed him in despite the late hour. It had only taken two days for his need to check on Lazlo to overpower the awkwardness he felt over their recent discussions. 

John paused for a moment in the study’s doorway, but must have made some noise because Lazlo looked up from his book almost immediately.

“John. I’m happy to see you. Please come in and sit down.”

John hesitated a moment longer, awkward with the weight of all the secrets and revelations between them. Nonetheless, he removed his hat and made his way to Lazlo’s couch. “What are you reading?”

“It’s uh,” Lazlo began, looking down at the book and appearing a bit embarrassed, “It’s Mary’s favorite book. By a Miss Alcott. 

“Ah”. John smiled warmly at his friend. It hurt him to think how lonely Lazlo had to be without Mary. While their love affair lent a certain poignancy to her death, John suspected that the loss of her constant companionship, after all the years they’d lived together, was the cause of the worst of Lazlo’s suffering.

“Would you care for a drink? Whiskey or wine?”

“Whiskey please.” 

“Of course.” 

While Lazlo prepared his drink, John searched for a non-controversial topic. It seemed that everything between them now had some deeper meaning. “Sarah stopped by recently. She is making plans for her future should Roosevelt leave the police department.”

Lazlo handed John his drink with a perplexed expression. “Does he intend to leave the Commissionership so soon?”

“Sarah suspects that his role in McKinley’s campaign last year may result in him being offered a job in the Administration.”

“I would have thought his early preference for Reed would have foreclosed that possibility. But perhaps his efforts once McKinley won the nomination soothed any injuries. Either way, would it not be difficult for a new commissioner to reverse Roosevelt’s policy of allowing women into the police department?”

“A new commissioner may not need to reverse the policy. He could simply exclude the women already hired from any meaningful work.”

Lazlo nodded in agreement with John’s words. “I suppose progress always goes hand in hand with setbacks. What is Ms. Howard considering as an alternative to the police department?”

“It seems she has been inspired by the exploits of Mrs. Warne of Pinkerton fame. She has therefore set her sites on becoming a detective with that agency.”

“That is an excellent choice. Her talents are wasted as a Secretary.”

“Indeed. If Sarah had had the fortune to be born a man, there is not a door which would be closed to her.”

“Perhaps. But if she had been born with all of the advantages of being a gentleman, she may have turned out ‘handsome but indolent’”, Lazlo drawled with a smirk at John.

John chuckled. “I can’t help but notice that you only mock my dedication to my vocation until you are in need of credentials from a respectable occupation.”

Lazlo gave a rueful grin. “As I could never win an argument based on the premise that my brand of alienism is considered, by any portion of society, a respectable occupation, allow me to distract you by refilling your glass.”

John lifted his glass in triumph over his win, then handed it to Lazlo.

“In fairness, my own profession is not held in high esteem by all portions of society. Joseph was quite beside himself when he learned that I am an illustrator.”

“Ah that reminds me. The children at the Institute will put on an exhibition next month to celebrate the spring season. Joseph has been chosen to perform one of the readings. I believe it would be beneficial to his recovery if you were to attend.”

John’s eyes widened in surprise. He made sure to take Joseph out for an egg cream or some such treat at least once a week. “The rascal never mentioned it! You can be sure I will be there.”

“I have often found that individuals who have been through trauma feel unable to reach out to others, even those they trust. I feared that might be the case with Joseph and so resolved to discuss it with you.”

“Thank you, Lazlo. I appreciate it in this case and any other that may arise.”

“Of course John”.

John opened his mouth to respond but was instead surprised by a yawn. Lazlo’s eyes instantly narrowed.

“Are you having trouble sleeping again?”

In the weeks after the confrontation with Drury, John had been haunted by images of arriving too late and finding Joseph dead. Lazlo had obliged him by offering sulphonal, until the dreams faded. 

“I…well..” John hesitated, fearing an honest answer would lead back to delicate topics, “it hasn’t become an issue yet. I suspect a few sleepless nights are normal for a man my age.” In truth, ever since their walk in the park, his sleep had been filled with images of Lazlo as a child, sometimes incongruously mixing with his previously existing nightmares. He watched as Lazlo was beaten, while Lazlo drowned, and he was altogether exhausted with it.

“I see.”

John was impressed. He could see how deeply Lazlo wanted to dig into his dreams and try to pull information out. Resisting such impulses must have been almost painful for a man of Lazlo’s character. 

“I may have a remedy for you. A new opera opens at the MET next week. La Boheme. 

John groaned theatrically but smiled. “Its good of you to look after me this way.”

Lazlo looked up from his wine glass with a smile but his gaze was serious once more “Always.”

Instead of answering John drained the last of his whiskey.

“Would you like another?”

“If you are certain I am not keeping you from your bed?” 

“Not at all. I, in fact, am also going to have another glass.”

John slouched down on the couch once Lazlo had taken his glass. He was tired and hoped that spending this evening with Lazlo would convince his subconscious that Lazlo was safe and thus allow him to sleep. He was also relieved that Lazlo had kept his word not to push. He decided that as such, he owed his friend something.

“Lazlo…I’m not lying when I say I can’t remember what happened that night. I have…flashes and visions but they don’t make any sense. I cannot recall what is true and what is a dream.”

Lazlo had frozen when John began to speak, but now handed John his glass of whiskey and returned to his seat.

“Why do you think any of it was a dream?” 

“I saw Sally with her eyes torn out.”

Lazlo nodded and took a sip of his wine glass. “I see. May I ask…what was your physical condition the next morning?

John sighed and reached for a cigarette. Lighting it, he mumbled “I was fine. Bruising and…well…welts, but nothing dangerous. I was merely sore.”

“Strange that they would drug you with something to impede your memories and then beat you. I would have thought the benefit of the attack would be to make you experience the pain and the fear and thus discourage you from further investigations,” Lazlo murmured. 

John chuckled bitterly at that. “Lazlo you are sometimes too high above the world of men. They wanted me…humiliated. To know that I’d been attacked, to see the marks but have no way to know how, or who watched it happen, or who I should seek revenge on.” 

“Do you feel humiliated?”

John sighed and took a long sip from his whiskey.

Lazlo stood from his chair and made his way over to sit next to John. “I am sorry.”

“You mentioned methods which might enable me to remember that night. What would that look like?”

“A first step would likely be hypnosis.” Lazlo smiled when John turned his head to give him an incredulous look. 

“Yes I know, for lay persons hypnosis is most commonly used as a parlor trick, but it has been in use for a millennia and it is currently considered a sound medical practice.”

“How would it work?” 

“I would attempt to put you in a relaxed state that would allow you to move past your mental defenses. John, I should warn you, it is unlikely that you would remember every detail. I suspect Ellison used chloral hydrate to incapacitate you. It is a tasteless sedative that quickly dissolves. If it were given to you in sufficient quantities, at some point you likely completely lost consciousness.”

John absorbed this news, uncertain of exactly how he felt about it. If that night was as bad as he feared, the inability to ever remember it might indeed be a blessing, especially if it meant that Lazlo would never have to know what had happened. If it was as he hoped, and the worst he’d encountered was a pummeling and theft, it would be a relief to know that for certain. John shook his head, and stood from the couch. 

“Well Lazlo, I fear I have kept you quite long enough,” he said, pausing to finish his whiskey and hoping he sounded unaffected. “I believe it is time for me to leave you and seek my own bed.”

“Stay here tonight, John”.

When John scoffed in response, Lazlo continued “I have a spare room for a reason. It is quite late, too late for you to walk and I have already dismissed Stevie and Cyrus for the night. Stay here.”

John contemplated the odds of getting a cab at this hour and then hung his head in defeat. “Thank you Lazlo. It seems I am going to have to take you up on your offer.”

“Will you be able to sleep? I only ask because I have some sulphonal here, if it would help.”

John weighed the satisfaction he would get from refusing Lazlo’s help against the prospect of another night haunted by his dreams. 

“If it is not too much trouble, I would be grateful for the assistance.”

“Of course John. If you remember, the guest room is down the hall, the first door on the left. I will be right there.” 

John sighed, thinking that Lazlo always managed to outmaneuver him, and headed towards the bedroom. He removed his jacket and then sat on the bed to wait. He’d used this room before, but only when too drunk to make his way home. He was distantly grateful that he’d told his grandmother he would be home very late and that she should not wait up. 

“Please roll up your sleeve.”

John obeyed the request and watched while Lazlo held the needle up to the light and tapped lightly at the glass to prevent any air bubbles from forming. Then, kneeling on the floor beside John, he gently pushed the needle through his vein. John felt the cold cloud of the drug entering his system and almost immediately began to feel relaxed. 

Lazlo carefully withdrew the needle and pressed a piece of cotton to the wound, encouraging John to bend his arm to hold it in place. 

John lifted his eyes from the wound to Lazlo’s face. “Thank you Lazlo.”

“John, forgive me if I’m pushing, but what are your recent nightmares about?”

John sighed, “They are about what they are always about. Losing the people I care for. I see my brother, and Joseph and you. Stabbed, beaten, drowned, dead.” He realized he probably wouldn’t have been so honest if he weren’t so tired, but he was hard pressed to think why it mattered at this point. 

Lazlo bent his head, still kneeling at John’s feet. “That is very like you”.

Taking a chance, John reached down and let his fingers comb through Lazlo’s dark hair. Lazlo shuddered for a moment and then leaned his forehead against John’s knee, allowing his good hand to rest on John’s thigh. 

John could feel them both approaching a precipice they would not be able to come back from. Fear and longing seemed to be warring inside of him. “Lazlo…” he began, but trailed off when Lazlo lifted his head to look at him. John watched as Lazlo’s eyes fell to his lips and was shocked by his own thought that Lazlo might kiss him. 

Turning his head to the side, Lazlo used his good hand on John’s leg to lift himself up from the floor. “You should lay down. Once the sedative hits, you should fall asleep very quickly.”

John nodded, trying to read Lazlo’s face and attain some insight into what he was thinking. Having little success, he allowed his eyes to drop to his vest and he began unbuttoning it while kicking off his shoes. He knew there was no reason to feel self-conscious, but removing even just his outer layers while Lazlo silently stood and watched made him want to squirm. 

Stripped down to his shirt and trousers, John stood to lift the covers and, blushing under Lazlo’s continued to scrutiny, crawled into the bed. Settling onto his back, he closed his eyes and then abruptly jerked them back open when he felt the other side of the bed tilt. 

“What” he started and then swallowed to clear his suddenly dry throat, “are you doing?”

Lazlo settled atop the covers, sitting with his back to the headboard. “I’ll stay until the sulphonal takes full effect. I will be able to wake you if you have any nightmares.”

John began to protest, but Lazlo laid his hand over John’s eyes. “Sleep now.”

The comforting weight of Lazlo’s presence and the creeping effect of the sedative won out against John’s outrage at being watched while he slept. He closed his eyes.

“Gute Nacht mein Schatz”.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter shows what happened at Paresis Hall. Next chapter John will spell it out for Lazlo. This was all supposed to be one chapter but the words got in the way.

Breakfast was quiet.

 

When John woke the next morning he felt both relieved to have finally achieved a full night’s sleep and inexplicably disappointed at finding Lazlo gone.  The memories of Lazlo, of him on his knees at John’s feet, of the weight of his hand across John’s eyes, were unexpectedly pleasant.

 

He realized that this new… physical appreciation of Lazlo was a somewhat reasonable offshoot of his year’s long fascination with his friend.

 

As they sat in silence at the table, he considered Lazlo’s months old question of why he stayed. He had seen firsthand Lazlo’s ability to be extremely kind and, he reflected ruefully, extremely cruel. He supposed the truth was that he found comfort and happiness in Lazlo’s presence, and knew that his harshness sprang from either preoccupation or the need to maintain distance between himself and everyone else.

 

“You should eat.”

 

Other than a terse ‘good morning John’ those were the first words Lazlo had spoken to him that morning.

 

John grinned at his friend and leaned forward to refresh his coffee cup as Lazlo folded the paper and laid it aside.

 

“Anything interesting?”

 

“Gossip regarding McKinnley’s cabinet picks and the near completion of the underground in Boston. You seemed to sleep well?”

 

John felt his face heat up, remembering that for part of the night Lazlo had watched him sleep.  “Quite well.”

 

“Do you have any obligations or engagements today?”

 

“Nothing I cannot postpone. Why do you ask?”

 

“A full night’s rest combined with a full meal might make this morning an opportune time to attempt to recover your memories.”

 

It was really incredible, John reflected, that Lazlo could so easily destroy a happy moment. “I asked questions, I did not agree to any actions.”

 

Lazlo ducked his head for a moment then attempted to rally his features with a sad smile. “John if you do not wish me to be the person guiding you through an attempt to regain your memories I could recommend”

 

“No!”

 

“I only meant to suggest”

 

“Stop.”  Even if he was unsure of all else, John knew he did not want a stranger prying into his thoughts. He rubbed his forehead in an attempt to soothe his sudden headache. “I apologize, perhaps we should try today.”

 

“If me…If after our years of friendship, this”

 

“Lazlo stop.” John took a moment to steady his breath and gather his thoughts. “You are the only man I could imagine having around me through whatever this is. I think we both know it could be…more than unpleasant.  I would prefer that no one would ever see…whatever this will be. If someone has to be there, I prefer you to all others.”

           

Lazlo looked like he was aching to pour out enough words to overcome them both, but after a moment, he ducked his head. “As you like John. Shall we move to my office?”

 

John had been sure Lazlo would suggest the study for this particular engagement and found himself relieved by the alternative. He had a feeling he would not wish to spend time in that particular room again.

 

“That sounds reasonable” he said as he discretely wiped his napkin across his lips, and followed Lazlo down to the ground floor.

 

“Would you care for a smoke before you enter? Unfortunately, I cannot allow smoking, or really any outside smells, into my office.”

 

John did want a smoke, but the long held perversity of their friendship required him to say otherwise. “I am quite well thank you.”

  

“Very well.”

 

John eyed his friend and realized, suddenly, that Lazlo was nervous. Strangely, it quite calmed his own nerves, so he settled himself on the couch and turned his eyes expectantly to Lazlo.

 

“You may want to remove your shoes and lay down. Make yourself as comfortable as possible.”

 

John gave Lazlo a slightly dubious look, but obediently toed off his shoes, swung his legs onto the couch and leaned his head back onto its arm.

 

“Now, do you remember the day at the lake our second year at school?”

 

“Of course,” John responded with a smile. Most of the sophomore class had been there, along with several eligible young ladies. He remembered thinking that between the food, the wine and the company he could not ask for a better day. He had in fact sketched out the scene multiple times.

 

“Good, now close your eyes and remember what it felt like to lay there in the sun. Try to keep your breathing even.”

 

John could see it in his mind. Stretched out on a blanket, everything bubbling and light under a haze of sun and champagne. “It’s warm and..”

 

“Its alright John. I don’t need to hear, I just need you to hold onto that memory and the feelings of safety and happiness that go along with it.  Now I want you to think about your body. Start with your feet and try to relax every muscle. Try to imagine every bit of tension escaping with each breathe.”

 

Focusing on his breath allowed John to slowly fall into the sort of daze he sometimes found himself in while staring into the ether.

 

“Good. Now I want you to imagine yourself sinking into a pile of warm blankets. First your feet sink in, now your calves, your thighs, your torso, your arms and chest, your head. You are safe, warm, cocooned and protected.”

 

Hazily, John wondered if this was it, if he had been hypnotized. He thought it might be so based on Lazlo’s description, but was surprised to find himself still aware of himself. He had assumed, based on his experience with parlor tricks, that he would be unaware of what was happening around him. Instead he was present but entirely soothed by Lazlo’s voice and the memories and images he was calling forward.

 

“How do you feel?”

 

“Good. Tired?” John distantly noted the sound of his own voice. It had the same mellow cadence that often accompanied a glass of good whiskey.

 

“Well done John.  Now I want you to try to remember our first dinner with Sarah and the Issacson Brothers.”

 

“Delmonico’s. You were disappointed. You thought I drank too much and thus was useless to you.” John could sense his usual feelings of worthlessness hovering outside the soothing atmosphere Lazlo had created for him. He couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy over the memory of Lazlo and Sarah clearly preferring each other’s company to his.

 

 “Don’t be concerned by anything that happened there. Everything is fine, and you are safe.”

 

John thought Lazlo’s voice sounded strained, and his gut tightened in concern, but his thoughts and worries felt too far away to really concentrate on.

 

“I want you to try to remember leaving the restaurant.”

 

“I was afraid you were right. I was worthless and more boys would die. I knew you’d never go near Paresis Hall so I decided to go and gather information”

 

“You have _never_ been worthless!” John cringed at the harshness of Lazlo’s voice, but it quickly returned to a soothing, inquisitive tone.  “You decided to go to Paresis Hall?”

 

Once again, John’s guts tightened.

 

“Its alright. You are safe here. You spoke to Biff Ellison.”

 

“Yes, he made me angry, uncomfortable.”

 

“Why?”

 

John tried to focus on assigning reason to the remembered feelings.  “He…touched my hand. I knew what kind of man he was, what he did to those children, and he…I thought based on the gesture… it was the type of touch that wouldn’t be out of place between prospective lovers.”

 

“Its alright John. Most men of your station would be…upset with such a proposition.”

 

“No.” John felt his brow scrunch as he tried to articulate the issue to both himself and Lazlo. “It wasn’t the proposition, it was the type of man making it.” John heard Lazlo’s breath stutter and he knew something about what he’d said was wrong.  He momentarily thought he should be worried, should try to concentrate, but the impulse quickly faded away.

 

What happened with Sally?”

 

“She told me about Giorgio. I tried to listen, but it was so hot. I _knew_ something was wrong, but I couldn’t focus.” John could feel his calm slipping away. He didn’t want to be here.

 

“John focus on my voice. Go back to the lake.  You are laying in the sun.”

 

John was surprised by how fast his memories changed. What was happening?

 

“It’s alright. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you. Try to breathe evenly, focus on relaxing your body.”

 

He suddenly remembered that he was really in Lazlo’s office, and he knew he was afraid to go back to Paresis Hall. It felt like it was taking longer for him to relax in the sun this time. He fought to remember the lake, but an image of his brother drowning entered his mind and he gave a sudden harsh inhale.

 

“John, do you wish to stop?”

 

“No.”  Champagne, laughter, sunshine, Lazlo leaning against a tree with a book, bare feet dipped in the lake to cool him. He breathed, and gradually the tension left his body. Lazlo was there, was with him in both places.

 

“Do you feel ready to go back to talking to Sally?”

 

“Yes. She knew what was happening. She took my billfold, she opened the door.”

 

“The door?”

 

“To let Ellison, Kelly and Connor in. Connor told them who I was and why I was there.”

 

“What then?”

 

“Kelly called in some of the boys. It was hard to breathe. But” and now John is confused because it doesn’t fit with his bruises, “but they didn’t hurt me. They rubbed their makeup on me, they got too close and they took my clothes. It hurt to stay awake and it hurt to breathe, but they didn’t hurt me. And then Kelly told Ellison and Connor to throw me out, and he left.”  John suddenly knew that Kelly leaving was a bad thing, that he was the one keeping things under control.

 

“You are safe John. Nothing bad will happen to you here. Did they throw you out then?”

 

“No.” And now John is seeing it in his own mind, not as one complete picture but as flashes. Suddenly being in the room alone with Ellison and knowing he was in trouble. Ellison grinning down at him. Ellison furiously working his hand between his own legs. John hearing his own laughter. Ellison now furious, dangerous. The loud thwack of a belt, the feeling of fists pounding into his vulnerable belly. Ellison whispering is his ear that he’ll die if he ever tells and anyway who would believe him.

 

“John?” Lazlo sounds highly concerned, and John realizes he should be because he is both laughing and crying. Hysteria, he thinks distantly. Again, he thinks and that simply causes him to laugh harder.

 

“John I am going to count backwards from five and you are going to be back at the lake. Five, four, three, two, one. John? Go back to the lake John!”

 

Now he couldn’t grasp firmly onto the lake or onto Paresis Hall. Images from both were fighting for dominance. It was too much.

 

“Alright John. This is over now. I am going to lay my hand over your eyes and you are going to be back in my office.”

 

John isn’t sure if it’s the weight of Lazlo’s hand or the hint of panic in Lazlo’s voice that drags him back.  Either way, he curls up there, panting, once again fully himself, relieved, terrified, embarrassed and angry.

 

“John are you with me?”

 

Lazlo starts to raise his hand, but John isn’t ready, so he reaches up to grab it and holds it steady over his eyes. “I’m here Lazlo.”

 

He knows he will have tell Lazlo all that happened. He suspects Lazlo will feel both relief and guilt, and he knows he will do his best to relieve that guilt. But for now, for this moment, he just wants to lay there, absorbing the comfort and safety of Lazlo’s presence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So close to the end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took so long to get this chapter done! I had the holidays, and a destination wedding, and starting a new job to contend with but I'm hoping the next chapter won't take anywhere near as long. Sorry if there are some issues, I haven't really had a change to proofread this because I was rushing to get it done.

John hadn’t expected to have this much trouble staying awake. 

Lazlo was still sitting beside him, still covering his eyes, but John knew that soon he would require answers. Now, however, with the rush of remembering draining from his body, he found himself inexplicably exhausted. He struggled to sit up, but Lazlo moved his hand from his eyes to his shoulder, pressing him down. 

“Just rest John. We have plenty of time. Rest.” 

 

He realized he had fallen asleep. John opened his eyes, and looked up at Lazlo, who gave a short smile and a nod. 

“This seems to be becoming a habit” he said with an awkward smile, while sitting up and rubbing his hands through his hair.

When Lazlo failed to respond, John looked over at his friend, only to find himself once again being watched. “I uh” John began upon realizing that Lazlo was waiting for answers, “I’m not entirely sure how to start.. .or explain.”

“What is the first thing that comes to mind?”

John squinted, feeling that the light in the room was too bright, like a spotlight focused on him. He covered his face with his hands and mumbled, “He..uh…Ellison, that is, I believe he has syphilis.”

Lazlo gave a startled jerk and when John turned to look at him, his face had gone pale. “No! Not,” John started, realizing how what he’d said had sounded to his friend, “he uhhh… .” 

“It’s alright John, take your time.” Lazlo’s words were calm but his tone betrayed his concern.

“No you don’t understand, its not what you’re thinking.” John huffed and looked down at his hands clasped between his knees, remembering saying the same thing upon waking on Lazlo’s couch the morning after Paresis Hall. He ruefully reflected that at least this time he could say it with confidence. He also noted, with a hint of hysterical amusement, that again, much like that morning, he was desperate for a drink. “He couldn’t…he tried, but he wasn’t able to.. uh… damn it, perform?” He finished the words with a vague gesture towards his own lap, unable to say it any clearer.

John felt Lazlo staring at him, trying to decipher his words. Heknew he was being irrational, he could not come this far and not explain, but still he felt unpleasantly exposed. “Lazlo, may I please have a drink?”

“Of course John.” Lazlo rested his hand lightly on the back of John’s neck for a moment, before rising and exiting the room. 

John found himself missing Lazlo’s touch. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable in his own fitted clothing, which suddenly seemed rather confining. He wondered what Lazlo was thinking.

“John?” 

John realized with a start that Lazlo was once again next to him and trying to get his attention. “Yes, of course, apologies” he said while grasping for the whiskey Lazlo was holding out to him.

“Forgive me,” Lazlo began, “but you seem to be indicating that Ellison was unable to gain tumescence. Is that correct?”

John nearly choked on his drink. “For God’s sake Lazlo!” He sighed heavily, “Yes that is what”, John paused and ran his hand over his face, then sighed, “that’s what happened.”

“I see.”

“Yes and so he satisfied himself with delivering a beating against a half conscious man.” John shook his head and began to stand from the sofa but was stopped by Lazlo pressing his hand to his knee.

“Are you sure there is not more you wish to tell me?”

“You,” John began and then stopped himself, looking curiously at Lazlo. “I don’t know what else I could say. The rest is just… details.” 

“Details that you still exhibit a great deal of embarrassment about.”

John knew Lazlo expected an explanation, but he simply looked away. “I don’t believe that naming each individual humiliation will improve the situation.” He finished his glass of whiskey and ached to get another, but was still gently restrained by Lazlo’s hand on his leg.

“You must have been frightened.”

“It was strange. I imagine it was the effect of the drug, but I felt very…disconnected. I laughed at Ellison when I realized his…difficulties.”

“Hmmm” Lazlo said. “And that is when he beat you. You said there were welts as well as bruises?”

John had no interest in discussing the particulars of that assault. “Lazlo” he sighed, “I’m going to get another drink. Spend the day indulging.”

“I’m not sure that drinking is the best way to handle your feelings John. Your exhaustion earlier suggests a level of shock.”

John grimaced at the not unexpected response “I am afraid on that we will have to disagree Lazlo.” John once again tried to stand, but Lazlo momentarily increased the pressure on his knee.

“First look at me for a moment please.” Lazlo waited for John to turn towards him. “John, Ellison targeting you was in no way your fault or a reflection of who you are.”

John stared past Lazlo, at the wall, but nodded along in an effort to satisfy him.

“His… freedoms towards you were not caused by you. His interest in you was propelled by a lust for power. He didn’t know anything about you.” Lazlo once again increased the pressure on John’s leg, encouraging him to face him once more. “You should know that many men fantasize at one point or another about same sex sexual behavior. Doing so is quite common and had no causative effect regarding Ellison’s attack.”

John felt his eyes widen as the blood drain from his face. “What.. how … I never,” John heard himself stuttering and could only imagine what he looked like in that moment.

“You don’t have to tell me John. I simply want to make it clear that you have no reason to feel shame. Its unhelpful and it cannot change who you are.”

John waved a hand in front of his face as if to dispel Lazlo’s words, “Lazlo I cannot, truly I cannot….”

“Come John," Lazlo said while giving his leg a final pat and rising, "If you are truly planning to spend the day indulging I am coming with you.” 

John was startled, but relieved by the sudden change in direction. “You never drink before dinner?”

“Its true, I haven’t spent a day drinking and ignoring all responsibilities in quite some time. Keens?”

John shook his head in bewilderment as he stood and walked alongside Lazlo to exit that godforsaken office. “You despise Keens.”

“I simply don’t understand filling a room with smoke and then expecting diners to be able to enjoy their food. And by keeping individual pipes for specific customers, Keens doesn’t only allow the practice, it actively encourages it.”

John actually managed to laugh at his fussy friend. “So why suggest it?”

“Well we aren’t actually planning to eat there…. And I know you enjoy it.”

 

John was quite proud of the fact that he had managed to get the great and serious Lazlo Kreizler drunk. Of course, John reflected, he was more drunk than Kreizler, who had a staggeringly high tolerance, but still, Lazlo was drunk. 

They were seated in armchairs before the fire place at their third bar of the day. Lazlo had chosen the place, which meant it was free of smoke, although John knew he’d have to air out his suit after the hours spent at Keens. He suspected that Lazlo’s fastidious nature would result in him sending his own suit out to be cleaned that very night. 

John rolled his head against the seat back to turn his face from the fire towards his friend. He was unsurprised to find that, despite his languid movements and sprawled limbs, Lazlo’s brown eyes were once more focused intently on him.

“How is the whiskey?”

“Top notch. You truly have excellent taste in liquor despite your preference for wine. Say,” John said, sharing a sudden revelation, “you are quite like Sarah in that way, preferring a drink associated with the opposite gender.”

Lazlo looked as though he was trying to decide whether this was a taunt. 

“Not”, John hurried to reassure, “that there is anything wrong with preferring wine. I just never thought about it before.” 

Lazlo apparently decided to take his statement as mere drunken ramblings. “Its alright John. I think quite highly of Miss Howard and take no offense to being likened to her.”

John gave a lazy smile in return. “It’s a pity she would not consent to marry me. I think even you would have been impressed by such a match.”

“Hmmm.” Lazlo took a sip from his drink. “I would have rejoiced in your happiness, of course, but I would have been concerned by a marriage in which neither party seemed fully committed. Tell me John, were you ever truly completely in love with her?”

“Maybe somewhat?" John said, remembering Sarah's stated belief that he only loved what he could not have. "I do care for Sarah, and I think our companionship would have been… easy. I do not relish the thought of remaining a bachelor all of my days.”

“You surprise me. I always considered you a romantic. I wouldn’t have thought you would marry for convenience.”

John made a noncommittal noise, took a sip of his whiskey, and decided he was drunk enough to brave asking a question which had been hounding him. “What you said earlier about … fantasies, what made you say it?”

Lazlo shifted in his seat so that their arms were almost touching. “The literature suggests that individuals in similar situations often wonder if their attacker knew something about them, some secret they kept, and that’s what triggered the attack. You mentioned that Ellison touched you in an overly familiar fashion before drugging you. I was concerned over how you may have interpreted that. I can assure you that he could not have known about any…curiosities you may have.”

“John exhaled heavily through his nostrils and he allowed a hint of peevishness to enter his voice “And yet you seem so sure you do know.”

“I don’t know John. I suspect partially because such interests are quite common and partially because of a few thing you said while under hypnosis. But I don’t know and cannot know unless you choose to tell me.”

John considered haughtily denying that he had ever had any such thoughts, but on some level he found the idea of his oldest friend knowing him so well quite pleasant. “I thought alienists considered such predilections unhealthy?”

“Some do,” Lazlo began, taking on what John privately thought of as his teaching voice. “But I, and many other professionals, believe that the prevalence of such interests, and the lack of documented harms, other than those inflicted by our society and culture, of course, suggests that such interests are natural. Interestingly, I recently had lunch with Dr. Whistler and he informed me that certain Native American tribes embrace such interests. They believe that the individuals who hold such interests embody two spirits, one of each sex, and are honored for it.”

“Really?” John asked, always secretly enjoying listening to Lazlo when he was passionate on a subject.

“He was quite excited to share it and other such information which is unlikely to ever be included in the exhibit at the museum."

“Because of society and culture?”

“Precisely John. Cloaking such things in shame and secrecy ensures that no one speaks of them and thus discovers how common they actually are.”

“It seems you know all of my secrets,” John said with a mirthless smile. “Tell me Lazlo, have you had such thoughts?” 

He intended the question as a taunt and expected Lazlo to continue his lecture in response, but Lazlo merely looked at him somewhat concernedly and said “Yes.”

Once again, John felt as though they were on a precipice and a step in one direction could forever change the nature of their friendship. John took a sip of whiskey as an excuse to break eye contact and asked “And have you ever acted on them?”

“John, are you sure this is a discussion you are prepared to have?”

John felt himself flush with embarrassment, annoyed that Lazlo thought him so delicate. “For God’s sake Lazlo, I asked the question, I have spent a significant portion of my adult life with ladies of questionable affections, I’m no babe in woods unable to handle a simple discussion!”

“Then yes.”

John stared at Lazlo in shock, realizing that he had in no way expected an affirmative answer to his question.

Lazlo gave a wry smile. “Sex is a natural act, deriving from both physiological and psychological needs. I am not ashamed of my actions, although I realize the folly in broadcasting them.”

John felt an unexpected rush of jealousy. “Who?! You could have endangered your entire career! Who could you have risked that with?”

“I confess that I was young and did not fully consider the consequences. Another gentleman at college, a year below us. I don’t believe you ever met.”

John simply stared at Lazlo.

“May I presume your own interests have never gone beyond thoughts?”

John felt his face heating up as he considered his answer. He could not admit that in this way he had remained untried because the only man he could ever imagine himself with was Lazlo, but he also couldn’t bring himself to lie in the face of his friend’s trust and honesty. “I… sometimes I would…er… imagine with one of the ladies I was with, but never in actuality.”

Lazlo only nodded in response, but his eyes darkened at this confession and John felt sure that he was pleased. Suddenly John found himself wondering what Lazlo would look like if they ever were together. He realized he was staring at Lazlo’s lips when they curved into a smile and he swiftly looked away. 

“Perhaps that is enough for tonight John? Shall I have the bar call a cab to take you home?”

John felt sure that the question was about more than the whiskey. He was oddly disappointed to be leaving Lazlo’s company, but he suspected Lazlo wanted to give him time to think before he did anything rash. He swallowed the last of his whiskey and turned back to see Lazlo’s eyes track the movement. John nodded wordlessly.


End file.
